


“Who’s Got America’s Ass Now?”

by xCrossbonesx (StarSpangledBucky)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Biting, Elevators, Hand Jobs, Jealous Jack Rollins, Kissing, M/M, Neck Kissing, Semi Public, That One Scene That Started This, ass grabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 06:23:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18632605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpangledBucky/pseuds/xCrossbonesx
Summary: In which Steve surprises Brock, and Jack feels a little bit jealous.-or-That one scene in Endgame that blessed the Hydra Husbands fans.





	“Who’s Got America’s Ass Now?”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kalika_999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/gifts).



> For my best friend kalika_999 because she supports me with everything I write, is a literal queen, and I love her <3

_They did it._

The sceptre was secure and in their hands, after they executed their plan with efficiency as well as secrecy. It was foolish of The Avengers to hand it over so quickly, they had too much faith in S.H.I.E.L.D, where Hydra agents were flying swiftly under their radar. Brock and Jack stepped into the elevator together, with several other agents, along with Agent Sitwell, who was on the phone to Secretary Pierce.

“Evidence secure.”

Brock placed his hands on top of the case to keep it steady, as the elevator doors closed behind Sitwell. He could feel Jack’s arm graze his for a moment, coaxing a brief smile out of him, which Jack caught sight of when he tilted his head to the side. Jack smirked back at him, before clasping his hands together in front of him, arms going taut under his uniform. Brock shook his head and tried to bite back a chuckle, still watching Jack out of the corner of his eye. Somehow he’d grown crafty at sending subtle signals Brock’s way, always knowing what grabbed the man’s attention.

Jack’s face fell back into its stoic form when Sitwell glanced around the elevator, prompting Brock to look down at his hands, but Jack’s gaze remained in a manner of a side glance. Brock didn’t even have to look at him and already knew what he was thinking. He could’ve been sporting a serious poker face, yet still manage to be suggestive with his eyes, or the overall warmth that radiated off of him. They had a job to do, and Jack was distracting him a great deal, he’d pay for it... _later._

“No. No hitches at all Mr Secretary.”

Suddenly, the elevator doors opened to Steve Rogers standing on the other side, his face unreadable. He was the last person Brock expected to see, given that Steve was supposed to be staying behind for search and rescue. Jack kept his eyes trained on Steve like a watchdog, as walked into the elevator, pressing a button for another floor along the way.  

“Cap? I thought you were coordinating search and rescue?” Sitwell asked.

Brock glanced down at the ground, lips parted slightly, while trying to resist the urge to sigh. _What the fuck was he doing?_

“Change of plans.”

Steve placed himself beside Brock, but kept staring straight ahead, hands resting on his belt. Brock turned his head to look at Steve, before deciding to greet him, with a languid manner in his body language.

“Hey Cap.”

“Rumlow,” Steve replied, looking at Brock for a split second.

Jack’s eyes flickered up when he heard Steve speak, his hand moving to rest on the gun in his holster. Something was unsettling him, causing his heartbeat to hammer in his ears, and he wanted to be ready to put a bullet in Steve if he made even _one_ wrong move. Part of it was his undying _need_ to protect Brock. Steve was closest to him, if he wanted to attack Brock would be the first person he’d go to, which was something Jack would not settle for. He kept his head down, yet he knew Steve was staring at him, probably taking the hint that if he so much as sneezed, Jack wouldn’t hesitate to _kill_ him.

Brock exhaled just enough for Jack to hear, his eyes locked on where Jack’s hand was. He tried to be discreet, _everytime,_ but he wouldn’t lie to himself and say that Jack didn’t look _fucking_ hot making one simple gesture. The way Jack’s fingers tightened around the gun, reminded him of how much it tightens around his hip, when Jack’s got him face down in the mattress every night. Brock swears he heard Steve let out a muffled scoff that sounds amused, like he knows _exactly_ what’s going on between those two, however, refrains from making a comment. Someone had to start teaching him how to have more self control, not giving away hints, because sometimes he’s just a dumbass like that.

“I just got a call from the secretary. I’m gonna’ be running point on the sceptre.”

Brock’s gaze darted to the case still propped up under his hands, as Sitwell put his attention on Steve.

“Sir, I don’t understand.”

Steve peered over his shoulder.

“We got word there may be an attempt to steal it,” he stated.

 _Well, he’s not wrong_ Brock thought.

“Sorry Cap, we can’t give you the sceptre,” he said.

Both he and Steve locked eyes for a moment, Brock trying his damndest to look like a smug bastard, though Steve was equally as stoic as Jack.

“I’m gonna’ have to call the director.”

Steve averted his gaze, as Brock continued to watch him, throat bobbing when he swallowed thickly.

“That’s okay. Trust me…”

Sitwell seemed as confused as everybody else in the elevator, until Steve leaned over towards Brock. Jack flinched, jaw set tight at how close the blonde was leaning into Brock, only to have Brock’s hand touch his to still him from fully pulling his gun out from the holster.

“Hail Hydra,” Steve whispered.

Brock loosened his grip on the case, eyes searching Steve's face for any telltale sign that he was bullshitting. He saw _nothing_ , Steve was serious, the tone in his voice when he asked them to trust him was one thing. But whispering those two words in Brock's ear without so much as a tremor in his tone, he meant business. Steve shifted his hand over to the case, almost as if asking permission to take it from Brock, who let it go so he could do so. Brock responded with a curt nod, as the elevator came to a halt, opening to the floor Steve was getting off at.

“I really hate that suit you wear,” Brock uttered, looking down then back up, voice barely a whisper.

Steve's mouth twitched up at the corner, before he made his way out of the elevator, case in hand, without so much as a glance back.

“He really has gone dark side.”

Jack glared over his shoulder at Brock, making him raise his eyebrow slightly.

“What?”

They must have only moved down one floor, because Jack stopped the elevator and moved to the side.

“Everybody out.”

“Excuse me, Agent Rollins?” Sitwell bit back.

Jack narrowed his eyes at the agent.

“I’m askin’ you to get out.”

Sitwell scowled.

“Who the hell-”

Brock’s eyes widened when Jack yanked his gun out from the holster, aiming it in between Sitwell’s eyes, his mouth curving up into a smirk at the fear on Sitwell’s face.

“Out. Now. Or I’ll decorate the glass with your blood,” he threatened.

The other agents that were in the elevator had already scattered, and Jack was starting to run out of patience, his _threat_ was legitimate.

“I’d do as he says, he means it,” Brock interjected.

Sitwell exited the elevator without another word, before Jack lowered his gun back into its holster, prompting Brock to sigh deeply.

“Did you really have to do that?” he asked.

After the doors closed, Jack slammed his fist against the emergency stop button, then looked over his shoulder at Brock, eyes hooded.

“Yes.”

Jack always had a knack for surprisingly Brock when he least expected it. He moved with so much finesse that Brock didn’t get time to process being cornered, his head bumping off the glass.

“Are you fuckin’ nuts? These walls are glass, anyone could see us in here.”

Jack’s hands slid up the glass to rest on either side of Brock’s head.

“That’s the point.”

Brock smirked.

“You’re terrible.”

He grabbed the front of Jack’s uniform, drawing him closer to crush their mouths together in a heated kiss. Brock could taste a faint hint of bourbon on Jack’s lips, as he pulled away to stare at him, with a raised eyebrow.

“Drinkin’ on the job Jackie?”

Jack grunted and leant in for another kiss, only to have Brock turn his head away.

“Answer me,” he muttered.

“Yeah I had a little. Problem?” Jack questioned.

“No...but you might’ve shared,” Brock said.

“So shut up and kiss me,” he drawled.

Brock chuckled, then cupped his hand on the back of Jack’s neck, pulling him back in for another kiss. He wasted no time in teasing his tongue over Jack’s bottom lip, which was met by Jack parting his lips and deepening the kiss. Jack playfully bit down on Brock’s lip, before delving his tongue back in, humming softly at the sensation. He loved kissing Brock, and seized any opportunity to do so, whether they were in public or not. There was only one downfall to it being in a public space, he _always_ got turned on from the adrenaline of it.

“I can feel that.”

Jack pressed his hips forward, while grinning against Brock’s mouth.

“Yeah?”

Brock smiled and brushed his fingers along Jack's scar.

“What brought this on huh?”

Jack touched his forehead against Brock's.

“You were checkin’ Rogers out weren't you?”

Brock shrugged lazily.

“I mean he's got America's ass but…”

“But?” Jack murmured.

Brock's hand dropped down to grab Jack's ass through his tact pants.

“Since you sound so jealous, I've got a better one... _right here,_ ” Brock stated.

Jack let out a sigh.

“Using that as an excuse to grab my ass,” he huffed out.

Brock laughed softly.

“What else am I supposed to do?” he replied.

“Hmm, point taken. But I'll do you one better.”

Brock's eyes were filled with curiosity at that.

“Oh?”

Jack's hands slid under the waistband of Brock's pants, his thumbs dragging them down at the same time. Brock shuddered when Jack pressed him back against the glass, feeling the cold sensation on his bare skin. His eyes fluttered closed as Jack's lips ghosted against his neck, slowly moving to his collarbone where he bit down gently. Brock hissed and arched his neck, fingers gripping into the fabric Jack's uniform so tightly he almost left a small tear in it.

“You realise my ass is out for everyone to see.”

Jack scoffed.

“Let me know when your ass makes front page news, then we’ll talk.”

Brock opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced by Jack stealing another heated kiss. A subtle moan followed as Jack groped Brock's ass with both hands, fingers gripping into soft flesh, making Jack smirk teasingly.

“What are you planning?” Brock uttered.

Jack lifted one hand up to cover Brock’s mouth.

“Just shut up.”

Brock rolled his eyes and nodded.

“Fine,” he grunted, voice muffled by Jack’s hand.

“Good,” Jack purred.

Jack took Brock’s chin in his hand, then tilted his head to the side as he licked a long strip up his neck, slow and teasing. Brock groaned and drew his bottom lip in with his teeth, eyes half lidded so that he could still see what Jack was doing. He felt Jack’s free hand move from groping his ass to rest on his hip, fingers curling around it tightly. Brock’s breathing quickened when Jack’s grip tightened further, enough to cause light bruising, that he was sure Jack would take time to pepper kisses over later. Jack was always very catering to Brock’s needs, as well as his own, so much so Brock only loved him more for it.

“Jack…”

“Quiet,” he hummed.

Brock’s breath hitched at Jack’s hand sliding into his briefs to wrap around his hardening cock, giving it one teasing stroke for extra measure. His head fell back against the glass, as Jack’s thumb was skirting over the tip of his cock, before gliding back down the shaft, his hand wrapping around it once again. Jack smirked at the blush forming on Brock’s neck that was slowly moving up to his cheeks, something he saw so rarely. The long, lazy strokes made Brock’s toes curl as Jack leant in, lips grazing the shell of his ear and down to his jaw.

“You’re perfect like this.”

Brock bit back a laugh.

“Gonna’ have to try harder than that.”

Jack _loved_ a challenge.

“Alright...”

Jack kissed him, before giving his wrist a quick jerk, causing Brock’s knees to buckle a little, his hands finding support on the glass wall.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he ground out, teeth clenched.

He was always easily brought to that _edge_ that he needed, Jack knew exactly what he was doing, he was making this quick, because he knew by now people would be looking for them. Sweat started to pool on his forehead, while Jack continued his onslaught of strokes that began picking up pace. Brock felt the ever impending sensation in the pit of his stomach, his breathing coming out in sharp pants now. Jack twisted his wrist in a way that almost caused Brock to cry out, his loud moan suppressed by his taut jaw.

“C’mon, I know you’ve got it in you, _commander._ ” Jack whispered.

That one word, _one_ damn word brought Brock to his release, thighs shaking and eyes screwed shut. He did cry out that time, as Jack worked him through it, his hand still languidly moving to make sure Brock got the full benefit of it all.

“You’re...so gonna’ get shit-” Brock paused, to catch his breath. “...from Sitwell tomorrow,” he added.

Jack grinned widely, then kissed Brock chastely.

“It’ll be worth it.”

Brock huffed as he fixed his tact pants, watching Jack look at his hand, before licking a bead of cum off his finger in an obscene manner.

“You’re such an asshole.”

Jack snorted, grabbed a wipe for cleaning his gun from his pocket, and used it to clean the rest of his hand, unfortunately having to discard his glove too

“You love me for it.”

Brock smiled stupidly at him like he was a literal walking ray of light.

“I do…”

* * *

_Brock’s ass made the front page news the very next day._

He and Jack were called to Sitwell’s office, where he had a newspaper folded on his desk, with the morning headline on it. When he threw it across the table at the pair, he had the look of someone who was embarrassed, as well as angry.

“Care to explain this?”

Brock glanced at the newspaper to see a very clear picture of his ass squeezed up against the elevator window, along with another of Jack groping it. A smirk tugged at his mouth, yet he tried his hardest to hold it back, knowing Sitwell would scowl at him like an angry mother.

“There’s nothin’ to explain,” he said.

“It’s trending on social media too!”

Jack’s brow rose, but he looked amused more than he did ashamed.

“I just...I don’t have time for this shit,” Sitwell sighed. “Be more wary of your surroundings next time,” he added.

Brock nodded, however he didn’t mean it, at all, it was fun...and daring, now his ass was front page news. _What a day to be alive_ he thought.

“I have a meeting with Pierce. I expect we won’t have a repeat performance?”

“No sir,” they said in unison, both knowing they were bullshitting big time.

Sitwell left in a hurry, without another word, blissfully unaware of the way he’d just be played, there was no way Brock and Jack would stop now.

“Well, didn’t you say we’d talk if my ass made front page news.”

Jack smiled wickedly at him, wrapped his loosely around Brock’s waist, kissed him tenderly on the cheek, then leaned into whisper in his ear.

_“Who’s got America’s ass now?”_


End file.
